


Weaponized Suffering

by PrincessFawna



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Poetry, Speculative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessFawna/pseuds/PrincessFawna
Summary: An examination of  Heart and what it is to feel yourself poisoned.





	Weaponized Suffering

There was a spool of thread inside of you

Somewhere along the way you had swallowed it

And it fell, unwinding, tangling into knots,

Spreading across your subconscious

A sort of odd physical poison,

That now infected you, spreading.

The thread moved with your blood,

Dividing your body into sections

Each fragment warring and pressing,

The splinters piercing into you, pain with each movement.

The trails found their way into your core,

Tightening, a vice around your heart.

Your fingers dug into your chest

Tight, burning,

Maybe you could pull this pressure out

It ached and pulled and _hurt_ and you just wanted

it all to go away.

Maybe it would come out, glittering golden and beautiful

Or maybe it would be darker, a quiet suffering violet, shimmering only in the corner of the eye

But you just needed it _out_

It ached and hurt and if you didn't do something

you'd shatter

It hurt and pulled and you couldn't _breathe_

The thread caught in your throat, and your breath

shuddered

Oh please, oh please,

The longing whispered

_Do something_

The thread forced its way up your throat,

Crawling out of your mouth,

Pulling inside, even as it rose,

It wrapped around your neck

Stopping you when you tried to talk

It wrapped around your fingers, limiting,

Forcing you to hesitate and struggle,

to backtrack and give up.

You were a mere marionette, moving only

as the strings permitted.

Years of this,

You knew the pressure as much as you knew yourself

Which was really, not at all.

You never did anything.

Time turned the thread

into sharp steel cords

cutting and pressing and slicing

Bleed you from the inside

Your heart, weeping

The red dripping down,

gathering inside.

Silver to red to brown to black

The cords dangling from your lips began to dissolve

Age and rust and they tasted like iron and spit and something you wish you had the bravery to name.

You never really slept

But now you laid with your own arms wrapped

around yourself

Wishing that they were someone else's

But they were always yours.

You take that feeling. The hopeless helplessness,

the hushed desire that _pulls_

And you heat it up until it's white-hot, sparking,

And you forged it into a weapon that

fits into the stone mold of your hands.

It burns you, a heavy weight, but,

You feel stronger than you ever have.

The longing becomes a blade in your hands.

Weaponized suffering to rend your foes in two

An electric power, fueled by your core,

That weeping heart, turned

to

steel.


End file.
